


bloodlust

by diphylleiia



Category: K-pop, NCT (Band), Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Smut, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 02:40:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30065409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diphylleiia/pseuds/diphylleiia
Summary: in which taeyong has a secret and doyoung desperately wishes for somebody - anybody - to save him from his sins. a tale of romance destined for the grave with deadly bloodthirst and cursed veins.
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Lee Taeyong, Kang Seulgi/Lee Taeyong, Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

it was a cold friday night, and doyoung wrapped his jacket tightly around him, shivering as the cold nipped at his cheeks, flushing them, and bit at his bare hands. he walked past a group of drunkenly hollering men, gripping his keys in his pocket anxiously. his apartment lay in the very centre of seoul, and weekends were animated viciously with drunken men.

his paper bag of groceries creaked at his side, the bottles of alcohol clinking at every jostle and turn. his breath came out in clouds, crystallising and sparkling in the dark night as he squinted, his tired eyes turning the lights into giddily painted stars against his eyelashes.

he heard the shriek of his paper bag ripping, and stopped abruptly, looking at his feet and feeling a wave of frustration. he looked about, seeing a small family owned store at the bottom of the street.

it was a long shot, but perhaps they'd allow him to borrow a bag to carry home.

"do you need help?" 

doyoung whirled around, hearing a low, velvety voice from behind him. a man stood about two metres away, his hand outstretched to gesture to the groceries.

"oh, it's fi-," 

"no. i insist," the man lifted his head up. his lower face covered with a mask, and his hair by a black cap. vivid red hair peaked out from underneath, covering strong brows, and brown eyes delicately surrounded by glittering makeup. they seemed to glow yellow in the streetlight.

he reached into his pocket as doyoung stood, astounded, at his friendliness. he was skinny: doyoung could tell that even when his frame was covered with a jacket, a white shirt underneath. he was pale, so pale, that he was almost transparent. his bare skin seemed to glow like moonlight.

he brought out a shopping bag, before stepping forward, lightly, and kneeling down to begin softly putting doyoung's groceries away. being violently ripped out of his reverie, doyoung fumbled to help him. the man's hands lingered over the alcohol bottles for a moment or a few.

"drinking alone?"

doyoung's breath hitched. drinking alone seemed so dull; lonely; compared to this man's expensive, silken personality, that he almost felt embarrassed to admit it.

the man must've sensed his hesitation.

"my name is taeyong," he looked up at doyoung, meeting his eyes, "and you?"

"doyoung," he mustered the courage to reply under his elegant gaze, which seemed to run over every part of the boy at once, and burn into his very soul.

"you seem like a very interesting man, doyoung. care for a drink?" he lifted an eyebrow, and doyoung stammered a yes.

that's how it started. as doyoung led him hesitantly to his small city apartment, he felt a pit of fear growing in his stomach. he was disgusted at his actions of inviting a stranger back to his apartment, which he had sworn never to do - to stoop down to that level of faux intimacy of hookups.

and yet, he felt an odd desire to please taeyong. it made his nerves spark, and his eyelashes flutter at every breath he took. as if he had been infected with some sort of ancient drug, he felt every urge to cater to this strange man, who smelt of cologne and cigarettes and leather. he was simply a performing puppet for the slender man.

he felt inferior in every way, despite having no evidence of taeyong being richer, or of any more important social status than him. his existence seemed to reek of expensiveness, of Parisian eloquence, shrouded in a dark mystery which doyoung couldn't detangle alone.

he felt unbearably trapped, if one could feel that way when in company with such an eloquent, politely spoken man. as now doyoung discovered, after a drink or two, that him and the stranger had a lot in common: both were gay, loved music, cheesy dramas, and romantic literature.

they had exchanged numbers, and taeyong left doyoung with empty bottles of soju at around 2am. doyoung collapsed onto the couch, feeling as though he had been floating for hours, with his head faintly buzzing and his heart pounding.

at some point he fell asleep.

he dreamed of taeyong, his velvety voice enveloping him, whispering and giggling.

he dreamed he was in his livingroom, and yet, the window was open. a figure stood at the door, leaning comfortably against the wall, with a flourished ease that could only belong to taeyong. at the moment doyoung realised this, taeyong stepped forward, his footsteps not making a sound as he tiptoed across the wooden floor.

taeyong paused briefly. doyoung seemed unable to move, transfixed by his elegant demeanour, as usual. taeyong brushed doyoung's dark hair out of his face, lightly, his fingers cold - lifeless, corpse like, and trembling, as he leaned closer, tilting doyoung's chin up so they were almost nose to nose, his lips chapped.

"soon, my love," as he brushed his lips softly, hungrily, across doyoung's, he felt a surge of fear. something like dry ice seemed to burn his lips as they touched, followed by a wave of pure terror.

he awoke startled, his heart thudding in his chest - from fear or from lust, he didn't know. in that moment, they felt the same. he brushed his hands through his hair desperately, feeling a cold breeze echo through his apartment. he took a quick glance toward his lounge window.

to his horror, it was wide open.

he ran toward it, feeling lethargic. slamming it shut and flinging himself toward the light switch, he grabbed his keys from the shelves beside it and scanned the room for any signs of an intruder, blood rushing in his ears.

everything was as it had been.

no smashed glass, nothing out of place, not even the creak of pipes in the walls, not a sign of any peculiar behaviour.

terrifyingly ordinary.


	2. Chapter 2

doyoung broke down the moment he saw jaehyun, who patted his head weakly in an attempt to comfort the boy.

"you know, that's what they say about vampires," jaehyun replied softly, light heartedly. his tone was laced with a dangerous seriousness doyoung was scared to unpick; it was gone in a second.

"very funny," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes and sniffing angrily, "it was scary,"

"maybe... don't hang around with him?"

"why not?"

"well, he gave you a nightmare,"

doyoung narrowed his eyes at jaehyun jokingly, but jaehyun's face remained stern. "he is not a vampire. stop it,"

"i'm just saying..."

doyoung sighed, rubbing his hands through his hair. jaehyun smiled at him fondly. "it's almost 4pm, doyoung,"

doyoung looked toward the clock.

"i should go,"

"have fun!" jaehyun replied sarcastically.

doyoung rolled his eyes. jaehyun knew that he hated his music lessons, taught by a sliming, conniving old lady by the name of soyoung, who critiqued harshly and rarely complimented doyoung's work.

yet, he knew it was the only way he was going to be able to achieve his dream of becoming a small idol in the bustling city of seoul, and to get noticed, he needed her help. after his lesson, he would return home to go to the local gay bar and make ends meet. each day was the same. he sighed as he boarded the bus, looking about for a spare seat. there were none.

"ah, doyoung!"

he whirled around at hearing a familiar velvet voice, and his stomach dropped.

taeyong waved happily, still wearing the same black mask and cap, coupled with sunglasses. doyoung could still recognise the way he sat, at ease, luxuriously, in the dusty bus seat. he was out of place. he belonged in long black limousines, drinking Italy's best wine and laughing with tall women and business owners.

not on a dusty, clattering bus on it's way into the centre of seoul, filled with loud, chattering teenagers and old couples.

doyoung made his way toward him, nodding his head as he sat beside him.

"excuse me if this is rude of me, but why were you at the hospital?" taeyong asked, and doyoung pressed his lips together.

"my friend, jaehyun, is sick," he replied solemnly, not offering more information onto how sick he really was: clinging to life with a single thread, fraying slowly.

"oh," taeyong stayed silent.

doyoung felt the tension between them increase with taeyong's lack of an answer, and played with his fingers nervously.

"where are you headed?" his voice shook.

"oh, i'm off to work," 

"oh? what's your job?"

taeyong hesitated. "i work in sm ent.," 

"you what?"

taeyong seemed to grimace under his mask. "keep your voice down!" he waved his hand at doyoung to shush him, before nodding. "i don't feel like being harassed."

doyoung's head seemed to spin.

an idol? talking to him?

perhaps that's where taeyong's luxurious elegancy came from, his velvety presence which oozed success and confidence. it made more sense to doyoung now. there was no way anybody like him couldn't be somebody: not a nobody like doyoung.

doyoung grabbed his phone, quickly typing taeyong's name into google.

sure enough, up his face popped.

taeyong's cheeks turned red as doyoung looked up at him. "don't look at me like that," he murmured, snatching doyoung's phone away before looking around, as if he was searching for somebody. "don't tell anybody," he whispered, an emphasis on each word which seemed to slap doyoung.

"i won't," he replied softly. he meant it.

taeyong seemed satisfied. he pressed the stop button and ruffled doyoung's hair as he stood, swinging glamorously onto the walkway, and bowing goodbye. "my stop,"

doyoung nodded his goodbyes, watching taeyong step off of the bus and hesitate before turning to catch doyoung's eye one more time. he seemed to wink at him.

doyoung released a breath he didn't realise he was holding until that moment. he opened his phone again, reading the wikipedia page about taeyong. he hadn't kept up with idols in months - years - no wonder he hadn't recognised taeyong lee. 

doyoung kept to himself since jaehyun got sick out of nowhere. for now, his life consisted of work, work, then visiting his best friend, and work, work, and more work. hospital bills were expensive, and just one job didn't cut it, and jaehyun's condition was worsening by the day.

doyoung had watched him steadily deteriorate over the last years. jaehyun's belongings lay abandoned in their shared apartment, and covered in a thin covering of dust, untouched, yet his bed unmade from the cold winter nights doyoung was too lonely to sleep in his own bedroom.

doyoung put his hands in his pockets. the windows had steamed up now in the dusk light, leaving the lights trembling splashes against the windows. he began to think back on every small action he made in front of taeyong and cringed internally.

he cursed. he would've done so many things different if he knew he had been in front of an idol - an actual idol - rather than being his usual, clumsily awkward self, dropping his groceries and blushing.


	3. Chapter 3

doyoung had found him: 

jaehyun, curled in a ball, coughing and spluttering, his phone smashed but open. blood poured from somewhere, pooling around him as he shook. the door was open, flooding the apartment with a harsh winter chill which sunk through doyoung's jacket and bit at his skin.

doyoung screamed, running toward him, frantically calling an ambulance, turning jaehyun to face him and cupping his cold cheeks in his hands. jaehyun spluttered.

"help! please!" doyoung almost shouted into the phone, heavily yelling their address. he dropped the phone beside him, shakily stroking jaehyun's face. "what happened?" he murmured, his voice croaky, his eyes blurry with tears.

jaehyun didn't answer, simply whining. his lips were bruised and chapped as blood began to dry upon them, "it hurts,"

"they're going to help you," doyoung had replied, as he heard sirens wailing in the distance, "it's all going to be ok,"

it sounded more like he was trying to reassure himself rather than jaehyun.

the monitor beeped dryly. it was the only noise in the room apart from the ticking of a clock, and the occasional hurried click-clack of heels down the hall behind the closed, baby-blue painted door.

everything was baby-blue, doyoung had noticed. in fact, by now, he had begun to analyse every crack, and every peel in plaster, and every inch of faded paint and every anonymous stain on the walls.

three days.

three days jaehyun had been comatose.

doyoung had never felt more lost.

jaehyun had been there for him through every wobble in his life: he had held him while he sobbed over his first break up, cheered him after a long day at work, cooked for him, told him stories until he slept, and most of all, made him whole.

doyoung looked longingly at jaehyun's bed. pale. jaehyun was known for his honeylike complexion and bronze tan, but now, looking at him from the plastic chair, he had never looked more pale. his face was sunken in dark circles like clay, and his veins bulged in unfamiliar ways.

doyoung's breath hitched and he cast his eyes onto the tiled floor once more. as he tapped his shoes anxiously, waiting for a noise - any noise - that could signify his best friend's consciousness, and make him feel any less alone in the universe.

the door opened. doyoung had memorised it's creaking now. he didn't look up, expecting to hear the low clearing of a nurse or doctor's throat and, if he was looking particularly grievous, a half hearted pat upon his shoulder in an attempt at comforting him.

he looked up when he heard the screech of the plastic grinding against the tiles.

across the room, sat a lone man, dressed in black, sunglasses and a mask covering the majority of his face. doyoung frowned, standing up defensively and rushing to jaehyun's comatose side, gripping him.

"who are you?"

"who are you?"

they spoke at the same time.

his voice was low and soft, with no hint of underlying venom that doyoung expected. it had a tinge of a foreign accent, laced with anticipation and a familiarness that doyoung couldn't quite put his finger on.

"i'm his f-friend," doyoung stuttered.

the man scoffed, and doyoung reddened.

"a friend?" he paused, tracing his fingertips against the leather of the chair, and leaning forward so he was a few inches from jaehyun's face. doyoung resisted the urge to slap him away.

"i'm his lover,"

doyoung reeled back, a wave of ice coursing through his veins. "what?"

"leave," the man commanded, standing.

"no." doyoung returned, furrowing his eyebrows. the man was taller than him.

"i don't know you. leave. before i call the nurses." he pressed his finger delicately onto the emergency call button. if doyoung wasn't mistaken, the monotonous beeping of the monitor had sped up - ever so slightly, like jaehyun could feel doyoung's panic - or, as if he could feel the stranger's presence.

doyoung stumbled back, his eyes bleary, and picked up his bag, not stopping to look at jaehyun's face once more, and stumbling out of the room. he practically ran out of the hospital, his heart aching.

how could jaehyun not have told him?

what else was jaehyun hiding?

who was that man?

doyoung had collapsed onto the couch when he returned home, feeling a familiar aching tiredness wash over his bones.

doyoung snapped out of his reverie as there was a knock at his door. his heart pounded in his chest at remembering those past events, which had stained him permanently since the moment jaehyun's blood had seeped into his clothes and the moment he had heard his pained cries.

doyoung never did find out what exactly had happened to jaehyun. when doyoung asked, jaehyun froze up, shaking lightly, and doyoung's chest stabbed with guilt.

collapsed lungs, they'd said.

collapsed lungs and liver failure from an overdose of sleeping medication, they said.

he could've died, they said.

he'll be out of hospital in a month, they said.

jaehyun had only left the hospital once since them. his condition had worsened. he hadn't died, but he might as well have. 

he was a shell of a person, now. cold, limp hands and sharp cheekbones with a yellow tinge to them, his lips cracked.

the laugh that used to light up seoul had faded into a dry chuckle which caused him to wheeze and shake, and the smile which had healed doyoung's heart had lingered to a dull snicker, a weak grimace.

it angered him.

jaehyun had been stolen from doyoung by a vile anonymous creature, an evil disease which had seeped into his veins and spread to his chest, and replaced by a sullen changeling of a man which doyoung tried so hard to cherish as before, only to receive an imposture love.

and doyoung had been solely alone since.


	4. Chapter 4

taeyong swung the door open, beaming.

"come in!" he hugged doyoung, wrapping strong arms around his waist and enveloping him in the same sweet-spicy cologne he was getting used to.

doyoung let out a broken greeting.

"this is mark, and-" doyoung cut him off.

"seulgi,"

"yeah!" taeyong seemed to ignore the dull tone in doyoung's voice, pulling him by the arm further into the open-plan living room. seulgi waved happily, and mark nodded. mark was taeyong's fellow member in his rap duo, doyoung had read, and then seulgi, obviously, was his girlfriend. doyoung's throat tightened at the sight of her small waist and hands.

"come with me. we have soju, and wine, and-"

as they neared the kitchen, out of earshot, taeyong pulled doyoung closer. "listen, it's not what you think," he spoke lowly, looking behind doyoung to make sure mark and seulgi weren't listening.

"what?"

"it's not what you think,"

"what's not?"

"you... you don't know?" his urgent face softened.

"what are you on about?"

play dumb.

"seulgi and i..."

"oh, i know. i saw,"

doyoung sounded colder than expected.

"we're not actually together... publicity stunt,"

"why would it matter?"

he attempted to hide the relief in his voice.

doyoung pulled his arm free of taeyong's grasp. his nails had been painting maroon purple, he noticed. his hands were pale and mapped with blue veins.

"because..." taeyong trailed off.

doyoung paused, and made his way toward the large fridge, which hummed quietly in the background. doyoung felt something sharp pulse in his head, and shuddered, pulling the door open harshly. he let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, touching his forehead lightly while scanning the drinks.

taeyong had disappeared from the doorway.

he grabbed a bottle of soju, closing the door, retreating back to the living room. mark and seulgi looked up as he entered, confusion present on their faces as doyoung sat down lightly on the sofa.

"where's yongie?" seulgi asked, leaning forward. her long nails were painted pink, and her fringe fell softly into her eyes, her lips painted soft nude pink.

"i think he went to the bathroom,"

"oh!" she chuckled softly. "well, how are you? mark and i were discussing work projects, the usual," she went onto a spiel of what they were working on, adding, "i trust you. if you're taeyong's friend, you're mine!" and giggling, falling back, touching her earlobe, where a sparkling gem rested, glimmering.

"what's your job?" mark asked, and doyoung blinked. fuck. "taeyong talks about you a lot but never what you do for a living. i'm curious."

"oh, i'm uh... self employed,"

"oh really? what's your business like?"

"he's a prostitute." taeyong appeared next to doyoung, leaning on the arm of the chair. "are you not?"

it went quiet.

"that's cool," mark replied quietly, throwing a glance at taeyong. taeyong put his hand on doyoung's neck.

doyoung felt his cheeks burn. he'd never told taeyong that. he'd never even mentioned it. how did taeyong know? why would he announce it? 

his breathing picked up. he cursed repeatedly in his head. seulgi put her glass down. it clinked too loudly.

"so are you... like... gay?" she asked, blinking innocently. doyoung felt tears begin to brim.

"i-"

"get out, both of you,"

doyoung's head shot up, confused.

taeyong picked up the bottles and glasses, and mark smiled softly, taking his coat from behind the sofa.

"taeyong, what-" seulgi went to ask, clasping her hands together, "why? what did i do?"

"what? nothing. i'm bored. i want to spend time with doyoung alone." taeyong ushered her to the door.

doyoung's heart thudded in his chest. he didn't look up. he couldn't. taeyong was being rude to his friends, doyoung didn't belong here. taeyong was making them leave because of him, and his cold attitude to begin with, it was his fault. he'd ruined his only shot at making friends with them.

he didn't know how long he sat, wringing his hands together, his chest pounding, blood rushing in his ears, shaking and trembling with embarrassment.

he felt disconnected from his surroundings. he didn't belong here, on this leather sofa, holding expensive soju, surrounding by talented, beautiful people.

"god, what a bitch,"

taeyong sat down opposite doyoung.

"who the fuck asks somebody that?" he continued.

"doyoung?" his voice softened when he realised doyoung wasn't replying, as he placed the soju bottle down and shuffled across the floor to doyoung's feet, delicately holding his hands and looking up into his eyes, sitting on his knees, his eyes shining in the reflected light. doyoung pursed his lips together.

"is something wrong? did i upset you?"

"how did you know that was my job?"

taeyong wrinkled his nose, sighing.

"i'm good at guessing things. i figured, a normal job wouldn't allow you to live smack-bang in the middle of seoul, right? and you didn't appear to have a uniform or anything on. also-" he tilted doyoung's head up, brushing his finger tips down his neck.

"what?" doyoung's voice shook.

"a hickey. it was there. and you said you were single, and the fact your phone buzzes all the time, and the excessive amounts of sex toys, a-"

"i got it." doyoung replied coldly, slapping taeyong's hand away half-jokingly. "yeah, i'm a slut,"

"you're not a slut."

"i am."

"also, the fact your friend is in hospital. i figured it takes a certain type of work to be paying those bills. okay, okay, i'll shut up. you're not a slut, though,"

"i have no other talents,"

"i think you're cool,"

taeyong slipped onto doyoung's lap.

"i'm sorry for announcing it. i wanted them to leave,"

"why?"

"seulgi bores me."

"she seems nice," doyoung gritted his teeth.

"she is, i suppose, but still annoying."

"oh,"

doyoung couldn't think of a better reply.

he was painfully aware of taeyong's thin thighs resting on top of his, and the way his hand was gliding softly down his back, his other resting on his forearm, and how close his face was to his own.

he was painfully aware that taeyong emitted little body heat. he was cold, apart from his breathing, which hitched every so often, as if forced. he was painfully aware of taeyong touching him. between them, there were two thin layers of denim.

taeyong groaned, flopping backwards, wrapping his arms around doyoung, who stiffened with anxiety. his legs slid against doyoung's. he weighed nothing, doyoung noticed, as taeyong pressed closer to him.

"work is so tiring," taeyong whined, flicking doyoung, "so tiring, and so boring. i haven't had fun in a long time, apart from hanging out with you,"

"me?"

"no!" taeyong replied sarcastically, leaning forward to brush doyoung's hair out of his eyes. "another doyoung, actually." he hesitated. "don't be stupid."

doyoung met his eyes. he noticed they were flecked with yellow, and a thin scar lay at the base of his neck, in two circular dents, an inch apart. taeyong noticed his stare, and pulled his shirt up to cover them.

"don't stare. it's rude, stupid,"

he said it lightly, but there was an undertone of acid in his voice. it ticked like a bomb about to go off, and doyoung knew that taeyong was serious about it.

"kiss me?"


End file.
